


Lament of a Profaned God

by shiftlessPagan



Category: Original Work
Genre: Adventure, F/F, Fantasy, Female Protagonist, Gen, High Fantasy, Magic, Original Fiction, Original Universe, POV Multiple
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:14:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22266952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiftlessPagan/pseuds/shiftlessPagan
Summary: It was a cold winter, it had been a cold autumn, it had even been a cold summer. Nothing quite seemed right in the world. But for Saina Øystæinasdųƕllurr, things just seemed a little odd with this season's hunting. She'd been happy to simply live her life in her northern home, but that all changed one day with the visit of a stranger, leading her to have to run all over the continent to stop the emergence of an ancient being.An original work, set within a setting of my own making.





	Lament of a Profaned God

##  **A Winter Morning**

###  Saina 

It was a cold midwinter afternoon, the frost-filled wind sweeping over virgin snow, washing between trees and stones as it made its way down from the mountains to the west. However, the frigid wind and deep snow were hardly what could be called deterrents to living in this frozen land. For many creatures lived there, from the large, furry  _ pǻzú _ , the herding of which was incredibly important to the residents of the northern land. To the more humble  _ hasô _ , a smallish creature characterised by its long, floppy ears. But perhaps most of all, the  _ Løvívåłką  _ or Snow Elves live in these lands. More specifically, the  _ Yviríø̨løvívåłką  _ or Arctic Snow Elves. 

In the southern parts of this arctic, in a territory known as  _ Lø̨̂čéllotą _ , there is a relatively thin band of boreal forest. In part of this forest, a lone huntress stalks her prey. She creeps slowly over the snow, walking atop it as if it were solid ground, leaving nary a footprint behind her as she followed the trail of an animal. Specifically, a  _ hasô _ , she could tell from the size of the tracks, and how far apart each set of tracks was, that the animal was fully mature and quite large in general. It would be a fine kill for the village, and she, being the one that killed it, was entitled to first pick of the meat from the  _ hasô _ . That was if she made it to the man who butchered the meat in time. Even still, the huntress cannot help but feel a little disappointed. 

_ “If only it weren’t skammó...” _ She thought to herself.  _ “If it weren’t, then maybe I could find an even larger hasô, or a larger animal altogether.”  _ She simply mentally sighed at the notion and continued her stalking. Her bow, a cheaply made, but effective flatbow, was held in her left hand, semi-limply at her side. The beeswax coated sinew string stretched taut between the two extremes of the wooden arc. A simple but effective arrow was held in the same hand as her bow, gently pressed against the handgrip of the bow, and held with enough pressure to ensure it does not wobble or shake as she moves. She continued across the snow, between icy trees and past frost-covered berry bushes. She noticed a  _ čarålluvuo _ bush, which still had a few of its orange clustered berries clinging to its icy branches. They were just higher than a  _ hasô _ could comfortably reach, which explained why they were still here, even in the middle of the winter. 

She made a mental note about it and continued on, not wanting to lose her prey. She could practically smell it, she knew she had to be close by now. She crept slowly around a stand of clustered evergreens, peeking her eyes around it first. She saw her quarry — the smallish frame of the  _ hasô _ bunched up somewhat as it dug in the snow for forage of some sort. She slowly crept around the evergreens, slowly nocking the arrow and aiming. The  _ hasô _ was fairly unmoving — a good thing for her. She finally found her target, and in one smooth, fluid motion, she drew the bowstring all the way back to her cheek, and let it loose. The  _ hasô _ heard the cracking sound of the bowstring being pulled back too late, as the arrow soared through the air and met its mark. The  _ hasô _ let out a distressed squeal that was quickly silenced, followed by the sound of a muted  _ thump _ as the body of the  _ hasô _ collapsed against the fresh snow. 

She smiled — pleased with her work, and she walked forwards and knelt down over the corpse. She pulled out a belt knife and worked her arrow out with it. It was a quick job, and she recovered the arrow without damaging it or the animal’s pelt. She wiped the arrow off with some snow and dried it on the edge of her  _ gákkti _ . She replaced the arrow into her quiver, then grabbed the  _ hasô _ ’s body by its hind legs and tossed it over her shoulder. Still holding her bow in her off hand, she had the  _ hasô _ over her right shoulder. After getting as comfortable as she could with this arrangement, she began walking back to her village. 

Her village was certainly quite small, and if you asked a random villager what the name of the village was — they’d most likely shrug. However, maps and merchants liked to call them  _ Skóqarvåłką _ . The name meant “Forest People”, the tribe that lived in the village thought it apt and stuck with the name — even if most didn’t really even know it. She was one of the few who were properly aware of what their village was supposedly called. She knew this because she spent a lot of time talking to the rare visitors that sometimes came to their village. Merchants rarely came to villages in the Arctic regions, as there wasn’t a single tribe up there that wasn’t at least partially nomadic. The people of  _ Sóqarvåłką  _ were of course, no different, while the large part of the village actually rarely migrated. Many of the men in the village would go away during the majority of the winter, herding the reindeer farther north. And usually every 20 or so years, the whole village was up and moved to a better location. Though this period of 20 or so years has been steadily increasing as time has gone on, and people have been liking where they stay more and more. Making them one of the less nomadic tribes in all the Arctic. 

But just south, in the Tundra region, there were a few cities, and all the towns and villages there were permanent installations. The huntress knew all this because she had spent some time trading goods with the closest Tundra town. She and a few other people from the village had done so. But she also knew a bit from the rare few Merchants and Peddlers, and Traders who dared to venture into the harsh, unforgiving weather of the Arctic. 

The huntress walked towards the village, she could see the palisade walls of it up ahead, many curls of smoke fluttering into the air from many lit fires. And the tall, peaked roofs of the more permanent buildings, like the tavern in the centre of the village. By far the most frequented building in town. Chances were if you needed to find somebody - that's where they’d be. She walked up to the western gate and knocked on it politely. There was a delay and a response from behind the wall. The old gate slowly creaked open, and behind it, a squat old man smiled at the huntress. The man was very old, deep furrows under his eyes and the deep creases of his skin. While undoubtedly a Snow Elf, his hair had actually taken on a greyish tone, supplanting the usual white colour that Snow Elves tended to have. 

“Ah, got us a  _ hasô _ Saina?” The old man asked the girl. She nodded in response, giving it a bit of a shake to emphasize the point. 

“Yep, a pretty big one, especially for this time of year.” She said with a proud smile, even though just earlier she was lamenting over the time of year, and how small the pickings were for prey. Still, she had to be happy. Any sort of prey from a hunt was a good thing during the lean months of winter. And with  _ Wẙntr'revegar  _ preparations going on for the festivities tomorrow. She was just glad to do her part. “I hope Ghåða can make something good from it.” She smiled and both her and the gatekeeper shared a chuckle. Ghåða was a man who fancied himself a butcher. And while he was quite good at butchering meat, there was little that he could do with it after that. Or at least - little he could do competently. 

“And snow can burn.” The man replied jokingly before excusing himself and walking back to the little ‘guardhouse’ (little more than a shed. It had four walls, a door, and a roof that didn’t leak too badly. It was enough to call it a house in the eyes of the Elves here). Saina smiled to herself, before letting it fade and continuing to walk down the main path. Beaten semi-flat and snow-free by many people walking over that same path for ages and ages. The snow that covered the edges caused the edges of the well-worn path to be beaten into muddy slush, while the centre, with small boards set into it to maintain integrity, was more solid and tamped down. She began setting off towards her own tent. It wasn’t far from the gate that she had come in from. And after passing a few, she stood in front of her dome-like tent. 

Typically entire families shared a single tent. It wasn’t a hard thing as any given  _ juki _ (The type of tent) could be easily three or four meters in diameter. They were tall if squat, conical things. Made of stitched together reindeer hides, stretched over wooden poles. Leaving a smokehole in the centre. They were similar in design to  _ lávvu  _ that hunters and shepherds used while on the move. But were somewhat bigger. 

She walked up to the door of her tent and pushed it open. It was warm and slightly illuminated inside as a neighbor had occasionally tended her fire while she was gone - to ensure that it didn’t get too cold inside the tent. The last thing you wanted was for your  _ juki _ to be cold, especially since some of the larger ones could take a very long time to fully heat up. She stretched somewhat after she walked in, closing the door behind her as she did so. Happy to be back home again. She set the dead  _ hasô _ on a table near the entrance. She would field dress the thing soon, but first, she had the more pressing matter of her fire. 

She walked over to a small woodpile, and after stealing a few glances back at the slowly dying fire, she selected a few appropriately sized pieces of wood and threw them onto the fire. After some coaxing and a few trips back, she had it up to its full, roaring level. The hot smoke streaming up and through the smoke hole in the top of the tent. She smiled, feeling more comfortable in the warm firelight. 

She shook herself to awaken from the slight haze that was her mind at that moment and walked over to the table she had set the  _ hasô _ on. While that table would work fine for dressing the corpse. She had a stone-topped table that was even better for that purpose, blood can’t seep into stone after all. She placed the body on the counter and began the process. It was quick work as she had done it many times before. Using her heavy hunting knife, she made quick work of it. She pulled the skin off the thing and, after admiring how clean the skinning she had done was, set it aside. She would give the body to Ghåða, as he’d do a better job of cleaning and butchering it than she would. And the hide she could probably give to a neighbor, or if she cleaned it up some - traders tended to like good quality  _ hasô _ pelts. 

After not but a few minutes, she was done and ready to go. She cleaned off her belt knife with a bloodstained cloth, before setting the cloth back down on the table where she had had it, and replacing the knife into its sheath on her belt. She dried up a bit more of the blood, and picked up the now skinned corpse of the  _ hasô  _ and began to walk out once more. 

She left her  _ juki  _ and paused a brief moment to take a deep breath of the crisp evening air. Preparations had been going on for the  _ Wẙntr'revegar _ for some time now. And one could feel the energy in the air. More people than usual populated the tamped down streets of the tiny village than usually did. Some people were setting up some little stands in which they would sell some goods. While the people in town rarely had much need for money - often just sharing and trading goods openly when somebody needed something. Traders and merchants did need money, and for that reason, the villagers always had some small amount of money stashed somewhere. So these stands and stalls would act to help the owner to get some money for the traders. But might entice visitors to investigate. After all, the  _ Wẙntr'revegar  _ was enough of an event that visitors from all over came just to get a look at the festivities. 

She walked down towards Ghåða’s stand. It was little more than an L-shaped stone counter, mounted on top of a wooden frame, with a reindeer hide awning over it. It was located in front of his family’s tent, directly beside the road. His stand was a permanent fixture, he was always standing out there cutting up some meat or another, while during especially cold times he would do it inside his family’s tent, he almost always did his work outside at his stall for whatever reason. 

Ghåða was a tall, bulky man. He seemed to at once be quite muscular, and quite rotund. It was somewhat odd to look at him. He greeted Saina by somewhat jokingly waving at her while still holding his clever. Saina smiled at him and waved back politely, swinging the skinned  _ hasô _ gently, but firmly onto the countertop. 

“It’s not much, but I managed to get this much today.” She said to him, pointing to the skinned  _ hasô _ as she did so. The tall man just nodded contently, he knew as well as anyone else that the winter made pickings scarce. So nobody could really fault her, and besides, it really was a rather large  _ hasô _ . 

“Meat is meat, this one looks pretty good.” He said, fishing out a few coins from a purse kept under the counter and placed them on the countertop for her. Most people in the village didn’t really know how much things should be worth or are worth. So if anyone needed to pay for things, or get paid for things, it was generally accepted to just accept whatever amount was given. Here, they used the same coinage that most snow elven kingdoms did - a set of silver and gold coins known collectively as  _ Vẙ́hu _ . The exact printing and design and even the size of the  _ Vẙ́hu _ depended on where it was minted and could vary from town to town, let alone kingdoms. However, the weight was strictly regulated, and even the feuding kingdoms of the Snow Elves could agree to that degree at least. 

She picked up the coins and counted them out. She counted 4  _ sẙlovrąvẙ́hu  _ out and placed them in her bag. The silver coins were a smaller denomination, three of which were  _ Nyþrrakéðká _ minted, she could tell since they were thinner and larger. Though a more worldly person would possibly be able to recognise them by the symbols and designs pressed into the silver. The last one was an older  _ Cwåðą́drhyllʀ _ coin. She didn’t recognise it as such, however, as it could really only be distinguished from other coins by its markings. And she rarely paid much attention to the markings on coins. She thanked the butcher and began thinking of what to do now. She fingered her bow, realising now that she had forgotten to leave her bow and arrows back at her  _ juki _ . She’d been caught up with the feeding of the fire, and her wanting to get the  _ hasô _ dressed as quickly as she could. She sighed and began walking back to her  _ juki _ . 

As she walked back to her  _ juki,  _ she took a longer route. A much longer route in fact, as she had wanted to see how people were preparing for the  _ Wẙntr'revegar _ . She walked around, seeing people putting up some decorations, others preparing meat and food. And many people tapping casks and opening barrels of drinks that had been fermenting all year, if not longer. The  _ Wẙntr'revegar  _ was a great feast, that started on the eve of the solstice, as soon as the sun went down. And lasted all the way until the next daytime. At which, the  _ Jeƕblǻllą _ , the first sacrifice of the  _ Jeƕrevegar  _ festival would occur. People were already seeming to be getting into the festivities. She spotted the likes of Ćøgnr Vjeccę́rrų̂ʀ, the man who had stitched most of the  _ jukí _ that the residents of  _ Skóqarvåłką _ used. And Gałmʀ Rakörrų̂ʀ, the best (and only) blacksmith in town. 

She occasionally greeted and talked to various people as she passed by. Eventually, she got back to her  _ juki _ and stepped inside. She pulled her bow out from the quiver. Not the best way to hold it for long periods of time, but it was fine for a short period. She held the wooden arc in her hands, admiring its make with a smile. It was cheap and simple. But it was well crafted. She had had Fríðbrænd Ûvórdųƕllurr craft it for her. Fríðbrænd was probably the best in the entire village at making bows. In fact, her bows were often purchased by traders and merchants when they came close enough (or she went out far enough) to do so. And usually for a decent price if she was to be believed. 

She took the twisted sinew string off her bow quickly, but carefully. She coiled it up into a smallish coil, being sure not to do so too tightly, lest she damage the string. After doing so she propped her bow up against the table and placed the string on the table next to the top of the bow. Smiling to herself, she then set some of her other things down. Her heavy hunting knife (Switching it out for a smaller belt knife, you didn’t want to be without a knife most of the time around here. You never knew what you might need to cut) and a few pouches that could be removed from her belt. Not all of them could be removed, but a few could. So she moved a few heavier things into those pouches and removed them from her belt. Stretching out her shoulders, she let out a loud, satisfied groan, followed by a pleased sigh. She cracked her neck and adjusted her braid, and after tossing another log on her fire, went out the door and immediately crashed into somebody. 

She took a few moments to collect herself after her collision, as did whoever she collided with. 

“Oh, sorry!” She apologized hastily, not quite seeing the person yet. 

“I really should have expected better of you Saina.” Came the familiar voice of Ávvot, the apprentice to the village healer. Possibly the most talented herbalist in the village, and her best friend since childhood. 

“Ávvot!” She exclaimed with a grin, finally getting a good look at him. He was of average height for a snow elf, though he was gangly and thin, and appeared a bit taller than he really was. He kept his hair somewhat short, still reaching to just above his shoulders. Kept out of his face via a leather strip. He had the characteristic blue eyes you’d expect of a snow elf - as blue as a summer sky, and always seemed to have a half-dopey expression on his face. Even when he was being serious, it was hard to take him seriously, at least based on appearances. “Well, you should have warned me then!” She said jokingly, punching him in the shoulder. The herbalist just grinned back and wordlessly shook his head. 

“That would have spoilt the fun though.” He chuckled. “I mean, c’mmon, fancy huntress and all, you should have heard me approach.”

“From inside my  _ juki _ ? As I’m tossing a log on the fire? And not paying attention at all? Oh yes, most definitely, I should have heard you from a hundred  _ Qar'ðó  _ off then?” 

“Ideally, yes! After all, any hunter should be aware of their surroundings.”

“All this from somebody who would lose track of the wall behind them if they turned around.” 

“I said that  _ you _ should be aware of your surroundings. Not me. Don’t drag me into this!” 

“Too late,” Saina said, and the pair burst out laughing. They began walking off, talking to each other about various things. The upcoming festival, recent events and so on. The way they talked one would think it had been days, if not weeks since they had seen each other, rather than maybe a day at most. 

“I wonder if we’ll get any merchants or traders in town during the  _ Jeƕrevegar _ ?” Saina asked, not really expecting much of an answer from Ávvot, or anybody in general really. And, true to Saina’s expectation - Ávvot didn’t have much of an answer. 

“Who knows.” He answered with a shrug, and the two continued their walking around the small village before the two stopped. A voice a few tents off from them called out Ávvot’s name. It was Råk, the village healer, the man to whom Ávvot was apprenticed to. Ávvot let out a groan and cursed under his breath. “I swear, Råk is running me harder than ever this week.” He just sighed and waved to Saina and hurried off with a hasty goodbye as Råk called out for Ávvot again. Saina just shook her head and continued along, amused by the whole affair. Though a bit bored now, as she didn’t have much to do. She could go out again, but who knows how long she’d be out. And plus, it would be dark very soon. It being as deep into winter as it was - the nights came incredibly early. Though not so early as it would tomorrow - where the sun would only rise for an hour in the morning. It was always an incredible thing to witness, the hour of light. She actually liked it more than the summer solstice, where the opposite - an hour of night was true. 

She wasn’t exactly sure why she liked it more. Maybe she just liked the dark a bit more or the cold. Or maybe she just preferred the atmosphere of the  _ Jeƕrevegar _ more than  _ Késárevegar _ . She couldn’t really say. It certainly wasn’t because of the amount of food,  _ Késárevegar _ had it in far greater excess than  _ Jeƕrevegar _ ever did. Though she had to admit, she liked the traditional  _ Jeƕłą _ foods more than she liked the traditional  _ Késá  _ foods. They had a nice festive charm that the usual midsummer foods didn’t. 

She continued to walk around and look at stalls, at one point she stopped at the stall of Ińfrið Råksdųƕllurr, the daughter of Råk the village healer. She was a reasonably talented cook and always had something interesting going. When she set up stalls during the various feasts and festivals throughout the year, she was always frequented.

While Saina was sure this year would be no exception, people seemed to understand that she had hardly had the time to cook up enough food for the whole village yet. However, Saina was good enough friends with Ińfrið that she could stop by even now and see what the woman had going in the pot. 

“Hail Ińfrið!” She announced as she poked her head through the doorflap of her family’s  _ juki _ . The stall had been constructed out front but was currently without furnishings or contents. “Came to see what was happening.” She said as she stepped inside, the smoky smell of the tent wafting into her nose as she did so. And the scent of delicious things being made was carried behind the woody smoke smell. She could feel her mouth beginning to water, but held herself back. 

“Hail Saina! Doing well I see. Heard that you got a nice big  _ hasô  _ for Ghåða?” She asked, waving at Saina in a friendly manner, hardly looking up from the stewpot she was currently stirring. The thick scents of the various contents intermingling and emanating forth from the pot. Saina had never really liked any soup or stew she had ever had. She wasn’t sure why really since in theory she should love them. But something about them just rubbed her wrong, to the point where she could barely even stand the smell of the things. But she was a polite young elf and would eat whatever was put in front of her without protest. 

“Aye, I did!” Saina said with a smile, taking a few steps back from the pot so as to get out of range of the thick smell of the stew and began looking at the ingredient laden tables and countertops around the corner of the  _ juki _ . Such a variety of things, it paid to be the daughter of one of the more influential people in the village. If Råk wanted just about anything, he just had to say so. He never would need to throw his weight around any, people gave him things out of sheer respect. And Saina had seen plenty of times people just randomly giving Råk and his family things. Either as a manner of payment or thanks for some service done, or simply out of respect and kindness towards the healer. 

“Well, that’s good, a little bit more meat for us to toss on the fire.” She said absently, tossing a handful of some sort of greenish plant matter. Saina didn’t know what it was. Nor did she really care. She didn’t need to know. 

“Are you talking about food or sacrifice?” She asked Ińfrið. An important distinction to make sometimes, as they held that the spirits and the gods both would receive almost equal payment from the burnt ashes and smoke of sacrifices than the actual sacrifices themselves. Though the only way for the spirits and gods to properly absorb the sacrifice is for the sacrifice to then be tossed into the holy flames. Thus reducing them to smoke and ashes. Which are then spread throughout the land to fertilise the soil.

“Both maybe? One can never be sure really.” She said noncommittally with a shrug. “It’s so hard to tell sometimes.” She then stirred the stew a few more times, and seeming satisfied for now, placed the lid on top of the pot after removing the spoon she had been using for stirring the liquid. “Here, you want something?” She asked Saina, knowing all too well the purpose that most people saw in coming to her. Saina laughed and nodded and followed Ińfrið over to a table in the corner where a small plate of  _ Kö́łákakǫ́  _ was sitting. They looked fresh since their beige surfaces were still slightly wet with steam. “Here you go,” Ińfrið said, handing one to Saina.

“Thanks.” Saina said, taking one of the dumplings in her hand and taking a small bite from it to let the steam vent out of it. She then took another large bite, savouring the taste.  _ Kö́łákakǫ́  _ was not the most popular dish. Essentially just being fish roe and intestines stuffed inside of an easy to make potato dumpling and steamed. Foreigners found them disgusting, locals just disliked them. Often citing the fact that they were ‘end of winter’ food. Saina didn’t care though. She fairly unabashedly loved the things in all their weird and ‘disgusting’ glory. She popped the rest of the dumpling in her mouth and nodded to thank Ińfrið. 

“So then, did you come to talk, or are you just trying to leech off of me?” Ińfrið asked jokingly with a smile, poking Saina’s ribs with one of her elbows. Saina choked back a laugh and swallowed her food. 

“Hey, I came to talk. I’m not  _ that _ tactless.” The insistence as to her social ability caused Ińfrið to roll her eyes and jab Saina again with one of her elbows. Saina managed to deflect the incoming elbow this time by using one of her hands. “Hey, what did I do to deserve that?” 

“You lied.” 

“About what?”

“Everyone knows you’ve got the tact of a headless  _ pǻzú _ .” 

“Do not.” Saina insisted with a grin, before delivering her own quick jab to the woman and hopping back out of range of a counterattack. “Well if you insist that so strongly I guess I’ll be off then.” 

“Come back soon!” Ińfrið said with a smile to the huntress. “Maybe you can bring me something for once. That should wipe that leech mask off your face.” Saina just rolled her eyes and waved her goodbye as she popped out of the tent and looked up at the sky. While it was rather cloudy. The cottonlike mounds filling the cloud almost from horizon to horizon. She could still see some of the evening sky. Rapidly becoming night sky, with thick bands of purple and blue streaking across the low sky. And hints of a patchy aurora seen amidst breaks in the cloud cover.

She smiled, admiring the late winter sky, just standing there, letting the cold wind wash over her as she admired the few snatches of the sky which was beginning to become starry as the sun made its way past the horizon. She knew that once it did so, it would hardly rise again for the next few months. And the next morning, only for an hour. 

“Søvjełó will be taking her long naps soon now. Perhaps you should ask her for some of her silver before she does this.” Came a voice from behind Saina. She turned to face Råk. 

“Perhaps I should. Though she may not be feeling too giving, this close to her time for sleep.” The old healer laughed in a rather jovial manner. 

“Perhaps so. I guess I would feel much the same in her position.” Råk gave Saina a friendly smile. “Your friend Ávvot is in the tavern if you wish to speak with him.” He paused a moment then added. “He has good potential, he just needs it teased out of him.” He offered a wink and a slight nod before ducking inside of his  _ juki _ and was gone. Saina mulled over going to see Ávvot again. But it was starting to get late, and she was tired from a long day on the trail. That single  _ hasô _ was all the fruits that a full day of hunting had to bear. A regretful thing, but an unfortunate truth so deep into the  _ skammó _ . 

She began walking back to her tent, occasionally exchanging words with villagers as she passed by them. Eventually reaching her  _ juki _ at the edge of town. Her  _ juki _ had once been her whole family’s  _ juki _ , but they had all died or vanished some years ago. Leaving her all by herself. While some of the women in the village wondered when she’d marry some man so she could move into his family's  _ juki _ , she wasn’t even sure if she wanted that. While the warmth and more supplies from that was nice. She liked the freedom of having a  _ juki _ all to herself. Besides, she didn’t really think of any of the men in the tribe to really be marriageable material. No matter how often the women tried to play matchmakers.

She rolled her eyes and leaned against the table near where her bow and quiver were sitting. She sighed with some satisfaction as she did so before hopping back to her feet and turning around to face the table. She pulled her belt knife out and placed it on the table, as well as the various removable pouches from her belt and placed them next to the knife. She then walked over to where her bed was. Little more than a pile of warm furs and a few heavy blankets. It didn’t look like much - to foreigners at least. But it was incredibly comfortable and very warm. Both were important in the arctic like this. She then removed her belt and tossed it on a rug near her bed. Followed by her  _ gákkti _ and her skirt. She removed her boots and stockings as well and placed them next to the rest of her clothes in the pile. 

She stretched her arms out to her sides, rolling them back and flexing her shoulders and back muscles. Still a bit stiff from the day. While bored she had made a slight sport of seeing if she could pick berries off a bush with her arrows. It turned out that 9 times out of 10, she could. The only downside was that the arrows also ended up destroying the berry they hit. But it was a fun way to pass some time while she was trying to find something of substance to shoot. Since berries weren’t the most challenging prey to stalk through the frozen wood.

She fell down onto her bed, laying on top of her bedding, letting the warm air of her  _ juki _ , provided by the fire in the middle wash over her body. Unimpeded by the thick clothes she had been wearing before. It was relaxing to just lie here like this sometimes. She remained like that for a few minutes more before crawling under her blankets and getting comfortable in the thick pile of furs and straw. 

What felt like hours but was maybe one at most passed and she eventually found some light sleep. Drifting off into the realm of dreams, she dreamed of things that she wasn’t sure of. That she would know that she would have no memory of the next morning. Such was the nature of dreams after all. Though this seemingly wasn’t quite to be. A few hours, maybe two after she drifted off into a light sleep, she heard a commotion from outside her  _ juki _ . 

She slowly roused from her sleep, blinking drowsiness and blurred vision from her eyes. She mumbled something that likely wasn’t actually fully words, and sat up. She heard the commotion outside continuing and mumbled again, sliding over to the side and hastily getting dressed. Stumbling to her feet she clipped her quiver to her belt and strung her bow, throwing it over her shoulder. She ducked outside of her  _ juki _ and looked around to see a crowd gathering at the end of the street. She cocked her head to the side and pushed some of her hair out of her face. In her haste, she didn’t really have time to braid it like she usually liked to. So right now she was wearing her hair loose. She quickly made her way over to where the crowd was and looked around, trying to get a feel for what was going on. It didn’t take long though. 

It was a stranger. A very odd one to boot. Strangers themselves were news enough in the village, so few people came so far out of their way to make it to this place. But this one was especially noteworthy to the people of the town. She was tall. Very tall. The tallest person that anyone in the village had ever seen before in their life. She towered over anyone in the village, she seemed to almost be tall enough to have her head brush against the ceiling of the tavern. She was dressed entirely in white. She wore a flowing white dress that elegantly clung to her body in enough ways to emphasize it without being scandalous. And over that, she wore a thick woolen cloak. Around the edges was a gold trim that seemed to be depicting vines, with small leaves every so often along with them. Her cloak was held in place by a golden clasp, inset with a blue stone. And around her waist, she had a belt made of braided silver, elegantly tied not too tightly and not too loosely.

She seemed like she might have been a snow elf. Her knee-length hair and skin were both as pale as the driven snow. However, her eyes were a peculiar light grey tone. Unlike the shades of blue which characterised the snow elves. 

Most notably though, was what she held in her left hand. A staff of some pure white wood. Sanded to a smooth looking surface. The entire length of which was traced by an inset, corkscrewing band of silver. Which started at the bottom and ended right under the topper. The topper itself was interesting. It resembled a bulb of vines, carved from the same white wood as the rest of the staff. The vines twisting and moving in odd and unpredictable ways before they met all together as one at the pointed tip of the staff. And inside this cage-like bulb of wooden vines was a small glowing orb of light. It was a very pale blue colour, and it gently bobbed up and down and spun around. Shedding a soft light around her. 

She had a subtle smile on her face, which never seemed to leave it. It seemed somewhat amused by the whole affair that was going on. As she was bombarded by questions and proddings from the villagefolk. She simply remained silent, enduring the barrage for now. Her face was absolutely beautiful, Saina noted. And it was impossible to put an age to. While her features were soft and utterly ageless, not a wrinkle or greyed fold of skin in sight. Her eyes told a different story. A worldly agedness to them as they stared at the now slowly quieting down villagefolk. Her piercing gaze seemed to stare through into the spirits of everyone it fell upon. And it truly felt as if she had seen everything there was to see in this world. But yet, she still wanted to find more. 

Little by little, the bombardment of questions slowed down and the people began to quieten up once more. Now the eyes of everyone gathered were focused on her. She readjusted herself in a way that seemed to imply a certain satisfaction in the newly gained silence. The only sound in the small village was that of the night wind blowing between the  _ jukí. _ Snow lifted up by the winter air striking against and falling off the taut, dark, reindeer skin surfaces. 

“Hello and greetings to all you who have gathered here.” She started. Her voice was harmonious and melodic. It flowed from one word to the next with sweet, honeyed tones. Like the water of the world’s sweetest spring. “I am very glad to see that I have garnered such interest from folk such as yourselves.” She said, again pausing after her words were done for a brief moment. Allowing the various gathered people to absorb her words and let them sink in. “I would love to stay here all night and answer your innumerable questions. But it is a late winter night, and I am sure plenty of you would wish to sleep.” She again paused to let her words sink in. “So I am here to tell you that I shall be in your inn for tonight and perhaps some of tomorrow.” Another pause. “So should you have questions you wish to be answered. Please find me there, I will be more than happy to answer whatever ones that you might have to ask!” She ended her last sentence on a chirpy tone. Her voice lilting upwards and her smile increased somewhat. She then nodded her head to indicate that she was done, and without a word, turned on her heel, pushing off with the butt of her staff, and walked in the direction of the tavern. 

Saina and many of the other villagers followed her. Though they did their best to not crowd the stranger. While they were all more than eager to find out as much information about and from her as possible, they were also polite enough to respect her space. Or at least, to respect it to a certain extent. The extent which was ‘as close as they could be without her making comment’. Which appeared to be reckoned by the crowd to be somewhere in the vicinity of a metre. If the strange woman felt they were too close, she didn’t say anything. Simply walking onwards, ignoring the gathered followers. 

She then reached the tavern and sharply knocked on the door three times before opening it. Once she did so she turned to face the crowd. “If you would.” She said, as polite as ever. The way she paused this time seemed to make the crowd hold their breath in anticipation. “Five minutes please.” She said firmly, but still with her friendly, honeyed tone. Before turning on her heel and vanishing inside the Tavern. The crowd lingered in its entirety for about a minute longer before slowly dropping off one by one. While the villagefolk were still curious, most of them figured that they’d end up hearing everything they wanted to know from the rumour mill and various gossips around town by the next morning. Especially with  _ Wẙntr’revegar  _ tomorrow. There would be more than enough time for them to talk to the people who seemed to know everything in town.

Saina however, wanted her information firsthand. She always loved talking to the strangers who came into their town. Their stories were always more interesting than the ones of the villagefolk. As they were, to her anyways, fresh and new. And news of the outside world was always so interesting. Even if she hardly knew anything of the people and places mentioned by the strangers. Hearing grand stories of the amazing things happening elsewhere in the world intrigued her to no end. 

The last trader who had come through the town had told her of the king of some kingdom to the south who was waging war with almost everyone around him in a bid for more land. Though at the time, the Trader had little more information than that that he could give to the young huntress. Despite the small amount of information, Saina had been more than happy to listen. But this woman, this stranger, she seemed different. Her bearing and her appearance suggested she knew far more than any of the traders did or ever could.

Not to mention that staff that she had been holding. She must have been some kind of sorceress! Mages and magic users weren’t very common here in the arctic. Aside from the village healers and shamen, who were largely self-taught or taught by their forebears. And they only ever knew a little bit of magic, only so much as was required to heal people’s common injuries (which was often supplemented or even supplanted by herbs and mixtures by an herbalist), or to help guide people spiritually. 

But a sorceress, this was different. She had heard stories both from villagefolk and from strangers of mages from far off lands. Who could perform incredible feats which she found almost unbelievable. She had heard a tale of wizards who could summon storms that took down hundreds of ships. Or who leveled armies all on their own. And there were the magic users of their legends. Who fought with and against the gods themselves, and traversed the realms and more. She couldn’t help but wonder if this sorceress was anything like these legendary heroes. 

She certainly didn’t seem like any normal person she had ever met. Though she had to admit. Normal mages could be exactly like her, and it could just be that she’s nothing particularly exceptional. But it could be that she truly was something amazing! She really didn’t know, and the mystery had her incredibly intrigued. 

Intrigued enough that all remnants of being tired and the haze of sleep had been fully shaken from her, and now all she could think about was trying to find out more about this strange woman. She waited with bated breath, managing to get her way to the front of the crowd. They all waited a fair bit longer than 5 minutes until only a few people remained. None of them wanting to be the first to go. However, after a little bit more time passed, Saina herself walked up to the door and took a quick, but deep breath, and pushed the door open.

Saina looked at the inside of the small tavern, it was one of the few semi-permanent structures in the village. Though the great majority of business in the village was conducted in  _ juki _ and their ilk. Or in small, temporary stalls, like the one set up outside of Ghåða’s  _ juki _ . This one had a foundation and everything. A large, roaring fire always sat at either end of the two-storied structure’s great room. A few rough tables and chairs were strewn somewhat haphazardly about the room, with a few people sitting at them drinking or eating. Most of these people were busy talking amongst themselves and unsuccessfully attempting to not seem as if they were listening very carefully to everything the pale woman might say.

The ones that weren’t doing so were either overtly sitting and listening, or in the case of Ruov Ƕyvjasrų̂ʀ, passed out in a small pool of spilt drink. People were used to Ruov doing this sort of thing and at this point didn’t really even bother trying to wake him. He’d just be right out once more soon enough if they did so.

However, sitting off to one end of the room, at one of the cleaner tables in the establishment, about a metre and a half from the fire, was the stranger. She was unmistakable, wherever she went. Everything about her seemed almost designed to draw attention. From the way she dressed to the way she held herself. Even her body itself seemed made to attract attention. Even if that attention was just people turning to look at her when she hit her head on a ceiling beam. 

Saina stepped inside the tavern, followed by the last few remaining people who were outside. The last person through closed the door behind them, leading to a quiet (but audible) grunt of approval from Kẙlj, the owner and barkeep of the tavern. He never said much unless spoken to. But when somebody started a conversation with him, he was always a vigorous and vibrant conversationalist. People said that he could keep a block of wood entertained if it just said something to get him going first. Many people came to him when they just wanted to talk about something. And he was always more than happy to comply.

Saina and the group approached the woman, gathering in a small crowd of about 6 around her. Some pulled up chairs or even tables, Saina chose to remain standing, now quite near the fire. It was fairly pleasant, for now anyway. The group all waited with their breaths held for the woman to begin. Which she soon did.

“So. I guess you’re all curious about me then.” 


End file.
